


A Song of Birthrights and Love

by GenkiGirl



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Dorothea, Canon Compliant, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Post-Canon, its femlash friday lads, lots of feelings, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23841598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenkiGirl/pseuds/GenkiGirl
Summary: Petra makes good on her promise to take Dorothea back to Brigid with her, after the war. Dorothea must find her place as an outsider and a commoner in a foreign land.Independent Brigid ending. Deals with themes of race, class, migration, and asexuality.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	1. A Proposal

The autumn breeze was cool on Dorothea’s face as she squinted into the dying rays of the setting sun. This was her favourite spot - the bridge linking the cathedral to the rest of Garreg Mach. When she was still a student, she had spent her days constantly rushing all about the monastery, juggling training with tea dates and group assignments. Years later, during the war, there had been too much at risk to afford even a moment’s respite. The fighting was over now, though, and she relished the chance to finally relax and take in the beauty of her surroundings.

She knew she would have to return to Enbarr soon; to the opera house, or whatever remained of it. A sense of dread came over her whenever she thought about it. The moment she left Garreg Mach, this chapter of her life would come to a close, and a new chapter would begin. As much as she had been through in the last few years, she hadn’t been alone. Here, she had made true friends - friends who, for the first time, had cared about her as a person, not a commodity. They, too, had duties to attend to, and many of them had already left. Whereas they had homes and families to return to, however, she had nothing. Perhaps that is why she clung to the dark memories of war - so many had died, and she had even found it within herself to kill, to take the life of others - and yet she was not alone in that.

There was nothing for her in Enbarr. 

She closed her eyes and tried to push the misery away, instead focusing on the sun’s warmth on her face. Those feelings were for the future, but for now she was still here, with all her friends. She would make the most of these last few days as much as possible.

Her thoughts were interrupted by approaching footsteps, and a familiar voice.

“You are spending a great amount of time here recently.” Dorothea couldn’t help but smile upon hearing Petra’s friendly, reassuring tone. They had become so close during their time at the officer’s academy, spending most free days with each other. Once the war had broken out, they had become closer still, and with each passing tragedy they had found strength in their bond. Surrounded by Fódlan nobility, Petra was the only other person Dorothea found she could truly relate to here - the only other person who felt like an outsider.

“I suppose I am,” Dorothea opened her eyes, and turned to face her friend. “You know, I never really realised how beautiful the sunset looks from here until just recently.” Petra nodded sagely.

“The sunsets in Brigid are also having great beauty.” She paused, and Dorothea saw her face fall a little. “Tomorrow, I am- I will be leaving.”

“Oh. I see.” Dorothea tried to hold her smile, but the news made her heart sink. She knew this day would come sooner or later, when they would have to part ways, but she had always pushed it to the back of her mind. Petra, like the others, had her own responsibilities back home to attend to. The silence between them grew long, before Petra spoke.

“Are you having any proposals?” she started, hopefully. Seeing Dorothea’s confused look, she continued; “from the men, you said that you were trying to-”

“Oh no, not at all,” Dorothea laughed nervously, cutting her off. While it’s true that Petra had been very supportive of her particular goals while she was a student, she had been focused on simply surviving for the last few years. None of the rich, eligible nobles she had met had interested her at all, and she had given up on finding a suitable marriage partner here a long time ago.

“Then, will you be coming with me, tomorrow?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Petra’s stark question took her by surprise.

“A long time ago, I said you can come to Brigid with me. If you would rather be staying, then that is fine too.” She was so sincere, and so earnest.

“Petra… We made those promises to each other back when we didn’t know if we were going to survive the next battle. You don’t have to feel obliged to honour them now. We were younger, and we - all of us - were saying such things to try and comfort each other. It wasn’t… meant to be taken seriously.” Dorothea looked away again then, feeling tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She spoke only the truth - as much as she would love to be whisked away to an exotic island with her friend, she knew that the things they had said to each other were simply dreams of a hopeful future, and nothing more. She didn’t want Petra to feel responsible for fulfilling her silly fantasies now. There was more important work to be done.

“I… see. Then you are not wanting to come with me?” To her surprise, Petra sounded hurt. Dorothea struggled to form a response.

“You… you truly want me to join you in Brigid?”

Petra clasped Dorothea’s hand in hers. “More than anything! You are precious to me. I am wanting to show you the beaches, and the sunsets, and the singing and the dancing that we have, and the food!” 

She felt overcome with shock - although Petra meant a great deal to her, she was constantly aware that their friendship was, for the most part, situational, and would fade after the war’s end. Until this moment, she had never considered travelling to Brigid a real, tangible possibility. Looking into her friend’s eyes however, she saw that she truly meant what she said. 

For Dorothea, life had been mostly devoid of hope. She knew she had a cynical, bitter worldview, but it was also realistic. She needed it to survive. Unlike the others, she could not rely on handouts from noble parents, and knew better than to depend on the kindness of others. She had always been prepared to spend her entire life looking out for herself.

Yet, here she was, a princess stood before her, clutching her hands, and asking her to join her in an island paradise. Moreover, that princess in particular was her confidant, her closest friend, and someone that truly understood her. She had hid nothing from Petra; she knew of her upbringing, she had always shown understanding towards her (often misanthropic) attitudes, and even so, she wanted Dorothea to come with her. This was no joke, no trick; there was no ulterior motive. For the first time, someone truly cared for her, and wanted her to be happy.

She couldn’t suppress the girlish giggles that bubbled up from within her; her sudden laughter, in turn, brought a smile to Petra’s face.

“Well, in that case, I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Her tone was sarcastic, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

“So that means you are coming with me?” Petra asked, unable to keep the delight from her voice.

“I will!” Dorothea’s response was equally as excited, but she was almost pulled off her feet as Petra tugged her into a warm hug. She may have been taller, but Petra was stronger than her by far. 

They stood together like that for a while, holding each other, watching the sunset. They had always felt at ease around each other, and when Dorothea needed comfort, she had always turned to Petra. Still, this moment - holding each other, watching the sun finally sink below the horizon - felt a little different in a way that Dorothea couldn’t really put her finger on. There was something more here than the affection they had for each other - a certain newfound fondness.

Eventually she pulled away, and smiled down at Petra.

“Well, I better go and pack my things, if we’re to depart tomorrow.” Petra smiled at her, and gave her hand a quick squeeze as she departed.

There was a strange, but not unwelcome feeling rising within Dorothea now. As she made her way back to her quarters, ready to start her new life, to begin her next adventure, she struggled to put a name to it. It was only as she struggled to fall asleep that evening, lying awake with anticipation of what was to come, that she finally figured it out. Something that was so alien to her, she had forgotten the word entirely.

For the first time, she looked to her future not with dread - but with hope.


	2. To Brigid

Dorothea sighed deeply and sunk to her knees as Petra cleaned the blood from her blade. Battle was never easy, but this had been the first time since the war they had been forced to kill once again. After fighting for so long to secure peace, taking lives now felt even more empty and pointless than it had before.

The two had spent the past few weeks travelling on foot from Garreg Mach, and had crossed half of Adrestia without incident. It was the longest either of them had gone in years without violent confrontation, and Dorothea felt more than ever the tell-tale signs of deep fatigue after exhausting herself using defensive magic. She had become a little out of practice, and the familiar pulsing headache that always followed the exertion of quickly firing off spells while struggling to maintain concentration was excruciating. 

“Are you needing to rest?” Her senses had been too numbed from the strain to notice Petra’s footsteps approach. She looked up at her and nodded as Petra squatted down to her level, laying a comforting arm around her shoulder. “We should turn back. It is soon becoming dark, and there is a tavern we have passed that-” Dorothea quickly shook her head, interrupting her.

“No. No, I’d prefer not to go back there, if that’s okay.” Thinking back to the last town they had travelled through, she recalled the crowded streets and rowdy hordes there; she much preferred to forego the luxuries of civilisation in order to find some peace and quiet in the wilderness, sleeping beneath the stars. “We should move on, and set up camp for the night.” Petra nodded, and after helping Dorothea to her feet, they pressed slowly onwards.

Neither of them were unaccustomed to camping in the open. During the war, everyone at the Officer’s Academy had been forced to learn how to survive on the road; supplies had been sparse at first, and home comforts were few and far between. With little more than the packs on their backs and their own wit, they had trekked together from battle to battle, and only after months had they secured safe enough passage to be able to pass through towns and cities without fear of ambush. Now absent of that fear, there was a strange solace to be found in old routines; one that Dorothea found herself seeking out in such strange times.

The sun hung low in the sky by the time they disembarked from the road, seeking out a small clearing within earshot to set up their campsite. As she worked, Dorothea found herself thinking back to the earlier battle. The bandits had aggravated them; at first, she had tried to de-escalate, but once they had started hurling racial slurs at Petra, even she could no longer hold back her rage. Still, they had been the first to draw their blades; she wondered at the opportunism of men to prey on travellers so shortly after a war that had ravaged the entire continent. Had not enough lives already been lost? Did they truly only draw weapons against them because Petra was from Brigid?

“Grandfather will love you greatly.” Her thoughts were shattered by the comment from Petra, who had returned from collecting sticks for the fire.

“I’m sorry?” Dorothea struggled to understand.

“Grandfather will love you greatly, when we arrive home.” 

“Well, I hope he does,” she giggled nervously. She hadn’t thought much yet about the impression she would make on Petra’s family. She was used to charming nobles, but Brigid nobility had always seemed a little different from that of Fódlan, somehow.

“You are fighting well,” Petra nodded sagely, “and in Brigid, royalty are always having prowess in battle.”

“Oh, I see.” Dorothea forced a smile, but her stomach twisted into knots at the idea. “Well, I’m not as much of a fighter as you are, I suppose, but I do have my ways.”

“There are many ways to fight,” Petra furrowed her brows as she tried to explain. “I am using swords, this is true. But you are using magic, and this is also fighting.”

“Do you have many mages on Brigid?”

“There are some, but the bow and the sword are tradition.”

Dorothea sat in silence, considering her response as Petra fed the small campfire. So, she was heading to an island of hunters - of course, she hadn’t imagined Brigid to have opera houses and schools of magic as Fódlan did, but the closer she came to her destination, the more worried she grew. Blending with nobility at Garreg Mach had been difficult; fitting in to a whole new culture on Brigid seemed impossible. When they had left the monastery all those weeks ago, it had seemed a dream-like adventure, but the reality was slowly dawning on her that spending time in Brigid may be more of a challenge than she had anticipated. She shook her head to try to clear the thoughts; she had no other hopes for her future either way. Instead, she busied herself with preparing dinner.

\- - -

As Petra slept, Dorothea tossed and turned lying next to her in the tent. Anxiety plagued her, and although she was exhausted from the day’s battle, she found herself entirely unable to sleep. Rather than continuing to shuffle in her bedroll and risk waking Petra up, she donned her coat and stepped out into the night, breathing in the cool, fresh air of the countryside. Perhaps a walk would clear her mind.

She made her way out of the brush and back onto the road, her breath forming mist in the air before her. Winter would soon be upon Fódlan, and she had never been a fan of the cold weather. She followed the road for a few minutes, cresting a small hill, and stopped for a moment to take in the humble view. She could make out a few farms and villages in the moonlight, some candles still flickering in the windows indicating late sleepers. 

Dorothea wondered if there were others out there who couldn’t sleep, and what troubles tormented them; a sudden bitterness overcame her then. Who could claim to be so troubled that slept in great farmhouses, or in cozy cottages with warm fires and roofs over their heads? When she was young, she had fought for survival every single day on the streets of Enbarr. She had stolen food from friend and foe alike in order to avoid starvation, and it sickened her now to think of all the orphans of war, all those still without homes struggling on the streets as she once did, whilst those lucky enough to afford safe shelter were caught up in their own selfish problems.

Fódlan had given her nothing. Everything she had in life, she had earned herself - there was no kindness in this place. For every kindness or generosity that had been shown to her at the opera company, there surfaced more and more memories of cruelties committed against her as a young homeless girl. How could any noble - or anyone living in excess, for that matter - call themselves compassionate, when they were happy to ignore the atrocities the poor faced every day? Her worries about leaving started to simmer and fade; there was nothing here that she would miss.

Suppressing her rage, she sighed to herself as she turned to head back to camp. When she arrived, she found Petra sat up, poking the smouldering remnants of their small fire, much to her surprise. 

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” She felt guilty about causing her any trouble; Petra had never been anything less than considerate towards Dorothea, and she often felt as if she couldn’t return the favour. Petra simply nodded at her question.

“At first, I was worried. But it is as I said; you are fighting well. I know you are safe. But then, I was worried again. Are you… having sadness about Brigid?” Dorothea sat next to her, huddling close for warmth.

“A little, I suppose. It’s nothing bad, I promise; Brigid is just very foreign to me, and I’m afraid I won’t fit in there.” Petra opened her mouth to respond, but Dorothea hurriedly continued. “Besides, it’s not as if I’m leaving anything behind here. This country is not kind to little homeless girls.” They sat in silence for a while, watching the smoke rise from the embers, until Petra spoke.

“In Brigid we are… not having that.”

“Not having… little homeless girls?”

“Right. We are not having this in Brigid.” Petra seemed so confident, Dorothea paused to think.

“How do you know?”

“I am never seeing them.”

“I don’t suppose Enbarr nobility ever saw me, either.” She tried to keep her voice gentle, but felt that familiar rage building once again. “I don’t mean to assume, Petra, but there are poor children everywhere; children without homes, without parents, children growing up having to fend for themselves in ways they never should. Those who can afford to simply ignore such horrors as consequences of the world, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t still plenty of people suffering every day.”

“Dorothea, I-”

“In fact,” Dorothea interrupted, now fuelled entirely by her own indignation, “I would even go as far as to say that they suffer _because_ of the nobility. There are empty homes in Enbarr you know; summer residences, second palaces, and that’s not even to speak of more meagre dwellings. Any one of them could be donated, could be used to help, but it is the selfishness of the rich that keeps the poor on the streets!” She was so caught up in her anger, she hadn’t even noticed her hands had started to shake. “You could never know of such things. You are a princess, after all, and it was foolish of me to think that you had any concern for common-”

“Dorothea!” She was cut off as Petra grabbed her arm. “I understand.” She slid her hand down, taking Dorothea’s hands in her own.

“You don’t, you can’t, you could never understand.” Dorothea couldn’t stop the tears that started to flow, her voice cracking. Years of strife and sorrow bubbled to the surface as she started to sob. Petra let out a little gasp and pulled her close, wrapping her arms around her, but still gripping her hands tightly. She held her, Dorothea’s body heaving as she wept, her head buried in Petra’s shoulder. Petra pulled her ever tighter still, and gently rocked her, running her fingers through her hair. As her sobs started to slow, she pulled away, and wiped the tears from Dorothea’s cheeks.

“When we are arriving in Brigid, we will look. We will find these children, the ones who are like you, and we will be helping them.”

“Do you promise?” Dorothea barely breathed the words out in between deep, shaking breaths.

“I promise.”

They sat together for a while, entwined in each other’s arms, until the last of the flickering red smoulders of the fire had turned to ash. Then, finally making their way back inside the tent, they lay together, with Dorothea still in Petra’s arms. With promises of better futures and the comfort of a true companion, she finally found herself able to rest for the night, anticipating the rest of their journey that would begin anew tomorrow.


End file.
